


Late Mornings and Early Lunches

by peacegirl



Series: Set the World on Fire [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Codependency, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:12:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacegirl/pseuds/peacegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Chetta, dear!” Bossuet cried, walking over to place a kiss on Musichetta’s cheek, who was yet to move from her seat on the couch</p><p>Musichetta scowled up at him, “How did you know I was here?” she asked, all of the previous night already forgotten.</p><p>Bossuet winked at his sister, “A brother always knows.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Mornings and Early Lunches

Joly woke early. Working full time at a hospital had ruined any chance he ever had of sleeping in. But as Joly was about to leave his room for his morning coffee, he remember there was a girl sleeping on his couch, and most girls didn’t take too kindly to being woken at 6am by a kettle.

Around 10am, Joly finally heard movement from the lounge room. He had been too scared to leave the comforts of his room, for the last thing he had wanted to do to was to impose on her.

As Joly peeked into the lounge room, instead of finding a half-asleep girl, Musichetta was stretched across his couch, wrapped in a blanket and watching his TV quietly.  
“Good morning,” Joly called, trying his best no to startle her. “I’m going to put the kettle on, would you like some coffee?” Coffee was a conversation Joly knew how to handle.

“Oh!” Musichetta cried, “I’d love some coffee.” Joly was trying to determine whether it was just her name, or if her voice really sounded musical. “But you’re finally up! I hope I didn’t wake you, I’ve never been the kind to sleep in if I’m not in my own bed,” She held up a plate of toast, “and I hope you don’t mind, I was getting hungry.”

He tried not to look too surprised at how quickly she had made herself at home. The odd thing was, he didn’t seem to mind. Though it did occur to him that she had been awake for hours, and he had spent all that time in his room for nothing. Typical. “No, it’s fine.” His voice completed with the kettle, “I’m glad you managed to find your way around the kitchen, I’ve been told it’s near impossible to navigate.”

Musichetta paused from a moment before answering, and all Joly could think was ‘Why are you talking about your kitchen, she’s a pretty girl, she doesn’t care.’

The girl let out a soft laugh, “You have many young women come round needing to find their way through the kitchen then?” She asked, smirking.

Stumbling over his words, Joly turned bright red. “I, uh, didn’t mean it like that! I just meant... uh...”

He was cut off by the sound of Musichetta’s laughter. “I know. But you’re fun to tease.” She followed with a wink. “Anyway, thank you so much so letting me stay the night, I owe you one.”

“Oh, it was uh, no problem.” Joly mumbled, “I’m glad I could help out.” He paused for a moment. “Is everything okay with your brother?” The final sentence came out in a rush, as if trying not to offend her with the question.

Again, Musichetta only smiled. “We have a uh, complicated relationship,” the girl said, with a smile that Joly struggled read, and therefore misinterpreted it. When Musichetta saw the look on his face, she laughed. “Not like that! He’s not bad to me or anything, he just gets like this sometimes.” She smiled fondly, as if recounting a memory. “You have no idea how many times I’ve slept by our door while his had someone over.”

Joly looked down at his feet, unsure how to reply, when someone knocked on his door.

The intern did his best not to jump, but Musichetta saw the look on his face, and was unable to stop herself from laughing. When Joly opened the door, there was a man about his age standing on the other side of it. The first thing Joly noticed about him was that he was bald. It made him look awkward, but his confident smile and natural laugh seemed to make it work.

“I’m Bossuet!” The man grinned as he introduced himself, but Joly waited for him to say something else, and tried not to look to rushed when he realised the man had finished talking.

“It’s nice to meet you...” Joly said slowly, “Can I help you?”

Bossuet clearly did not need to be helped, and Joly stood, rooted to the ground in shock when Bossuet let himself into Joly’s flat, then proceed to trip over his rug.

Musichetta’s laughed echoed through the hall, and Joly felt seemingly like a stranger in this situation.

“Chetta, dear!” Bossuet cried, walking over to place a kiss on Musichetta’s cheek, who was yet to move from her seat on the couch.

Musichetta scowled up at him, “How did you know I was here?” she asked, all of the previous night already forgotten.

Bossuet winked at his sister, “A brother always knows.” He suddenly glanced around at Joly, who was standing in the doorway to the lounge room, trying to understand what had just happened. “So my dear,” Bossuet whispered into his sister’s ear, leaning on the back of the couch, “Who is your attractive saviour?”

With a giggle, Musichetta turned, “Bossuet, this is Joly, then gentlemen who saved me from the clutches of the doorstep. Joly, my prince, this is my monster of a brother, Bossuet.” She said, exaggerating every word.

Bossuet walked over to shake his hand, “What a good man indeed.” But Joly simply could not keep up with the situation. Musichetta was acting as if her brother had done nothing wrong by her at all, and Bossuet was walking around Joly’s flat as if it was his. This family had a flair for the dramatics, so it would seem.

The bald man walked back over to his sister, “I do owe you an apology, my dear sister. It seems the man I stole from you was nowhere near the lover I expected, I was wrong to take him from you.” 

Musichetta reached up, and hit her brother on the arm. “You’re a bastard,” She said with a smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” He promised. “I’ll take you out to lunch!”” He shouted suddenly, “Your saviour, too. I’ll even let you keep him.” Musichetta scowled at that, but agreed, jumping over to run over to Joly.

“Oh, please come out with us, monsieur! It’s the least we can do to make it up to you!”

Joly could not help but laugh as Musichetta pleaded, “If you insist, it would be rude to say no.” 

Clapping her hands together, Musichetta leaned up to place a kiss on Joly’s cheek. “Fantastic!” She cried, “But I’m going to get changed first.” Musichetta ran to the front door, with an excitement of a child. “Oh, Joly!” She called, “I’m keeping your shirt, I’ve fallen half in love with it!” Her voice echoed down the hall, and Joly ran a hand through his hair.

He knew there was no point responding, she would be well inside her own flat by now. Half breathless just from her enthusiasm, he glanced over at Bossuet, who had been watching him for some time.

“She’s a whirlwind, my sister.” Bossuet said warmly. “And I don’t think it’s just the shirt she’s fallen half in love with.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make sure its clear, Musichetta and Bossuet are siblings, and Joly lives across from them.   
> I'd also love to thank Ellie - rrevolutionaries on tumblr, for letting me use her brilliant idea.


End file.
